


don't pretend you don't love the pain

by starkravingcap



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Biting, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Soft Jacob, fluff if you squint really really hard??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkravingcap/pseuds/starkravingcap
Summary: She wakes to feather-light touch on the edge of her bottom lip, a sweep of sensation from the right corner of her mouth to the left. Sleep-drunk, Rook has to fight back a smile. The inside of her cheek pinches where she bites it between her teeth and tries to keep still.





	don't pretend you don't love the pain

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [ this](https://an-exotic-writer.tumblr.com/post/145550544049/five-word-prompts) post.
> 
> "quit it or i'll bite."

She wakes to feather-light touch on the edge of her bottom lip, a sweep of sensation from the right corner of her mouth to the left. Sleep-drunk, Rook has to fight back a smile. The inside of her cheek pinches where she bites it between her teeth and tries to keep still. 

“Quit it or I’ll bite,” she says eventually, lips moving against the calloused pad of Jacob’s thumb.

He huffs out a quiet sound that’s something close to a laugh, but his thumb doesn’t move from where it rests. Rook opens one eye, vision fuzzy, and gives him a look.

Early mornings in this man’s bed are surprisingly gentle. Rook hadn’t expected it the first time she woke next to him, had been thrown when instead of grabbing her by the throat he had simply traced a line from chin to sternum, his touch like fire on her skin.

She’s not entirely sure where these moments come from, why Jacob’s carefully crafted blanket of control only falters in the hazy glow of the sunrise, but Rook finds she doesn’t mind.

They don’t talk about whatever _this_ is – mostly because that would mean giving it a name, and neither of them are wont to do that, not with the way things are – but Rook knows Jacob now better than she’d like to admit. She knows the cause of the dark, half-moon bruises under his eyes. She knows what he dreams of; terrible, nightmarish things she can’t possibly fathom. She knows how his voice cracks when he cries out in his sleep.

Her working theory is that the nightmares make him docile, if only for a little while. Nighttime destroys him, and he spends his waking hours trying to piece himself back together. 

It’s difficult to reconcile this Jacob Seed with the one who has made it his mission to destroy her in kind. 

Rook doesn’t realize she’s staring until Jacob falters, starts to move his hand away. Instinctively she reaches out, grabs his wrist, doesn’t know what ridiculous thing she’s going to do until she’s already done it. Jacob eyes her curiously as she drags his thumb back to its spot against her lips, then sucks it into her mouth.

His skin tastes like salt, sour but somehow sweet. Rook’s tongue laves over the rough skin on the pad of his thumb, and she swears she feel each ridge of his fingerprint, each whorl and loop that makes up who he is. 

The reaction is instant: Jacob exhales like he’s been punched in the gut, his pupils blowing wide and black. Rook’s lips tighten around the digit and tries not to smile when Jacob’s other hand reaches out to swipe stray strands of hair from her face. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jacob murmurs lowly. He’s watching her like she’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. “You are _askin’_ for trouble.”

Rook barely suppresses a shiver, heat pooling low in her belly. She scrapes her bottom teeth across the pad of his thumb and lets it slip from her mouth. True to form, Jacob seizes the moment and swipes his wet thumb across her lips, outlining her mouth with a trail of her own saliva. Rook can’t help herself – she grins wickedly. 

“I like trouble,” she says, voice airy. 

Her stomach flips pleasantly when Jacob grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger none too gently and tilts her head up toward him. His eyes are fire, pupils blown black, ringed by icy blue. 

“I’ve noticed.”

Without a second thought, Rook pushes his hand away and uses the leverage to roll over. Her legs come to rest on either side of him as Jacob lets her straddle his hips. 

She savours these moments of lapsed control. Having Jacob beneath her, pliant and surprisingly non-combative, is rare enough that she doesn’t think it will ever get old. Rook leans down and presses both palms to his chest to steady herself, pushes her thumbs into the scarred skin just under his collarbones. 

One of his hands slides up the side of her thigh, trailing warmth underneath it. Jacob brings the other up to her neck, strokes the skin of her throat with rough fingertips. A dark part of her wants him to tighten his grip, to grab her by the throat and pull her down to meet him. Instead, Rook swats his hand away from her neck and leans down to kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, the corner of his mouth. By the time she finally finds her way to his lips, Jacob’s free hand has settled on her hip, his fingers toying with the lace trim of her underwear. 

Rook kisses him, lazily at first and then more fervently when Jacob tangles a hand in her hair and tugs. He angles her head just so, and suddenly Rook is reminded of just how they ended up here so many months ago. Jacob kisses deeply, hungrily, _roughly,_ and Rook doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough. His beard tickles her jaw and she does her damnedest not to squirm.

Her lips part around a breathy moan and he licks his way into her mouth, leaning up to meet her. Rook breaks the kiss, panting, and shoves him back down by the shoulders until he lies flat. She rocks her hips down into his before he can complain.

Jacob groans, surging up to kiss her again. He pushes his thumbs into the divots of her hipbones hard enough to bruise, a subtle reminder that she shouldn’t get used to this, that _he_ is still in control.

Rook gives as good as she gets, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip _hard_. Jacob’s breath hitches in his chest. A small victory, Rook thinks, before she tongues the shallow bite marks she’s left behind, tasting copper. The grip on her hips tightens. With great effort, Jacob manages to tear his mouth away from hers. His lip is swollen, bloody; he looks ready to devour her.

“Gotta say,” Jacob rasps, voice delightfully ragged, “I never pegged you for the type to fight dirty.”

A grin surprises its way onto Rook’s face. Her hands settle back on Jacob’s chest, and she pushes him down until he’s flat on his back, staring up at her with hunger in his eyes. Rook leans closer, closer, _closer_ , until their chests are flush and her breath is ghosting over the shell of his ear.

“I told you I’d bite.”

**Author's Note:**

> this game literally dragged me kicking and screaming back to [ tumblr](https://wishb0ne.tumblr.com/), a platform i haven't touched in several years, so you can imagine the kind of time i am having


End file.
